


Don't You Know Lyrics Make Great Fic TItles by Skeet Davis

by Holy_Leonards



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Advertisement, After all these year, Body Horror, But he don't got em, Crack, Halloween episode, Holy_Leonards identity revealed, M/M, Salty, Smoke em if you got em, Some Sex, Werewolves, Why Carol Serling why!!!!, Zombie, only a little, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 03:10:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7873852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holy_Leonards/pseuds/Holy_Leonards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the Halloween episode of Fallout 4! Here at Holy_Leonards Inc. we love us some Halloween. So, we decided to celibate early with this fic! I hope it gets you into that holiday spirit, if ya know what I mean (nudge nudge wink wink bip boppity boo how are you?).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't You Know Lyrics Make Great Fic TItles by Skeet Davis

**Author's Note:**

> Please, kids, read the warnings on your condiments. You may end up with the wrong kind of sauce and nobody wants that.

This is the story of Nate Morgan, who cried a river and drowned the whole world. And while he looked so sad in photographs, you'd absolutely love him, when he smiled.  


The man slammed down his drink. He'd been listening to that damn holotape again. Simply titled, hi, honey. Nora had no clue as to how much pain it'd later bring Nate. "How many days in the year, have I woke up with hope, but only found tears, Codsworth?"  


"Exactly 742, Sir."  


"It's been so long since I crawled out of that freezer. My son, my baby Shaun's dead. The institute's gone. All I have left are the holes in the soles of my shoes. All I have left to do is wait for my final days to crawl by and disappear."  


"Jolly - Jolly Sweaty Ballies."  


"Codsworth, I'm not young. I can't just start over. I can't just get married, and have another child."  


"Sir..."  


"And I have nothing decent to wear besides this Vault Suit that - after washing it - never wears well the next day. Codsworth, this blue fabric takes exactly 18 hours to absolutely stink of ball sweat. And my hair?" He ran a hand through his locks, unleashing dirt, lice, and some slimy substance. "It's clumped up, greasy, tangled. It's hard finding a good barber in the Commonwealth. Even when you manage to find one, your hair never falls in quite the same way the day after!"  


"Dr. Morgan, you never seem to run out of things to say," Codsworth said, cheerfully.  


"It's just you, and me. And Nick. and Hancack, and Heck Dang, and Foghorn Longhorn, and Curry, and all those lesbian farmers Obama encouraged, and..."  


"Dr. Morgan, you really do just never run out of things to say."  


The man whipped out a pack of cigarettes, angrily lighting one. "See this, Codsworth? It's your dong." Dr. Morgan took a drag.  


"Oh, Sir," Codsworth moaned.  


Tinier, angry eyes formed in Nate's pupils. "I am not slobbering your dingus, Cods." The man dropped the cigarette to the ground, stamping it out.  


"Ooh! Ah! Ow!"  


A man entered the room. He was tall. Not, actually, he was short. Short, and hairy. And stinky, like tobacco.  


"Holy shit! Another person!" Then... realization hit Nate like a ton of nuclear power. He knew this man. "Wait... Wait just a second! Let the damn man rest in peace," shouted Nate.  


"Hi, I'm Odd Sod Rod Serling."  


"Goddammit!" Nate screamed, banging his wrinkly palm against the wall. "Why?! Why always this fucker!?"  


"I heard there's a good burger place in Diamond City."  


"That's a far ways off, bucko. This is Sanctuary. Ask Trashcan iCarly or something. She'll give you some vague instructions."  


"Oh." Beat. "Is Diamond City far?" (Him off, Nate.)  


"I'm not going to fuck him, Holy_Leonards!" Nate yelled at the sky. "The other incarnations of Nate loved it, but not me! I, Dr. Nate Morgan, don't do boys!"  


"Who are you yelling at?" Rod looked around, eyes landing on Cocksworth, writhing on the floor in pain. "The robot thing?"  


"No, Holy_Leonards. Technically, he's God to this universe. He slaps a keyboard, and we're the result." The sound of keys clacking echoed in the sky. There was a laugh, Holy_Leonards satisfied with himself.  


The short man's face took on a blank expression.  


"What?"  


"I swear I've heard that before. Something... humiliating. The..." His eyes widened. "The Night Gallery!" Suddenly, the man violently vomited  


"You okay?! The Night Gallery wasn't that bad!"  


"Fucking season three! The executives as NBC fucked my life so hard!"  


"NBC?"  


"nEvil Bitches Corporation."  


Another omnipresent laugh.  


"You're not that clever, Leonard!"  


"Who is that guy, anyway?"  


"I don't know. The ghost of Leonard Nimoy, or something. Asshole."  


"Wait, Leonard's dead."  


Nate refused to look at Rod, instead whistling.  


Rod Serling made his signature pained expression.  


"How long have I been dead?"  


"Too long. Alright, let's go to Diamond City."  


[Batman Transition.]  


They were almost at Diamond City, already!  


Rod took out his pack of Oasis cigarettes. "This is not an advertisement, but a suggestion," he said, opening it.  


He gasped, stopping dead in his tracks.  


"What?"  


"I'm out!" The 5 feet and four inches of pure sex appeal began shaking.  


"Okay? We'll buy you some. We're almost to Diamond City."  


"No, you don't understand!"  


Suddenly, the overcast sky cleared, revealing stars and a full moon.  


"ArooOOOOOooOOOooOoooooOoOoO!"  


"Oh, God! He's... He's...."  


The hairy man became even hairier. He grew -- like -- maybe an inch taller, busting open all his clothes. Four more nipples appeared on his chest. "I need my cigarooOOoOooettes, or else I get so upset I become a werewolf!"  


"Yeah, man. I get it. When my Dad was quitting, he used to get so angry he'd beat his meat mercilessly. Like, all the time. Until his foreskin split.”  


Rod stopped mid transformation "Wait. Your dad wasn't circumcised?"  


Nate shook his head.  


"Huh." Then the lycan-throby-knoby continued.  


Submitted for your approval: A quadrupedal Rod Serling.  


"Woof."  


"Fuck me!"  


"I thought you said you didn't like guys."  


"Shut up, Rod."  


"I'm not Rod." No, it wasn't Mr. Sex Serling. This voice was much, much sexier. Someone, unromanceable, being dangled in front of us by Bethesda and their claims of 'listening to the fans.'  


I. Fucking. Doubt. It.  


"Nick, go away. I've already given up hope on you."  


"Well, that's harsh. You know, kid, none of this is real, not even the canon. Near any interpretation of me is as valid as the next. No need to feel down -- even if Todd Howard is the literal personification of an asshole, and not in the sexy way. No, the forty-something douche way."  


"Next time, Let's fuck Todd Howard together. You know, for not letting me be gay, either."  


The two men tenderly exchanged loving looks.  


"Woof!"  


"Oh, yeah. You. Nick, will you give that dog a cigarette?"  


"You're joking."  


"No, it's actually Rod Serling."  


The robot let out an exasperated breath. "Of course it is." Robotic hands placed a smoke in the puppy's mouth, and lit it for him. "Leonard Nimoy's ghost needs to stop being so wet for Rod." He looked up at the sky. "You had your chance, buddy. You had your chance to bang him when you worked with him. Not a lot of people can say that."  


The dog transformed back into the human form: Rod Serling with an O face.  


"Nice!" Nate snapped a picture. "Stuff like this should be recorded, for future generations to enjoy. Carol." His eyes, looking dead, stared up into the stars, into the real world. "You shoulda." He pointed upwards. "You shoulda."  


"Leave her alone." Said Nick. "Regardless of how many asses I would eat for some Rod Serling porn. Like everyone else, we have to settle for topless pictures and our imagination." Beat. "And what we can guess his penis looked like based on factors we do know." Nick had Dick down to a science.  


"She's hot too. Why isn't she ever, like, involved."  


"I'm sorry. I don't understand."  


"You know..." Nate made thrusting motions.  


The synth shoved the other man down. "Don't you ever say that again." A skeletal hand smacked Dr. Morgan across the face. "Sicko! Pervert!" 

 

A truckload of cigarettes, a rotto-tiller, a handful of heart attacks, and a 70s attempt at open heart surgery later, and Rod was dead.  


"Was that a time warp?"  


"Yeah."  


"Hm."  


"Well, who are we going to hang out with now? The world's coolest man is dead!""  


Nick scanned the area, with his slightly superior synth eyes. "What about that guy?"  


It was the Collins' settlement's weird Europeon cousin. You know The Collins. From Far Harbor.  


Bean Bag Bananarang Collins was looming over the field that they were standing in. Cane in hand, he just stared with those 19th century eyes of his. Then, he came walking smoothly down to the two men and Rod dead body. 

“Welcome to Collinwood, gentlemen.”

He held out a hand and Nate took it. It was cold to the touch and not at all arousing. He couldn't even imagine what the guy looked like without clothes on. This was new to him.

“Yo, buddy, you don't feel okay.”

“What do you mean.” He kept his smile and his cold stare.

“Your hand is unsexily cold, no offense.”

“Full offense taken. I take pride in the fact that I am the sexiest man on the settlement.” He extended his arm and started spinning around in circles, slowly.

N&N exchanged looks of confusion and wonder as the Collinscopter slowly started up. It huffed and puffed and puttered to a stop.

“Looks like we won't be airborne today. Would you three mind coming in for a drink?”

Nate looked around for the third man and then remembered that the body of Rod was at their feet.

“Yeah, we would love some coffee or vodka or something. Look, can you give us a hand with our dear friend Rod here. He is playing deadweight at the moment and my back isn't like it used to be.”

Nick gave Nate a horrified look. Nate did not look like the Nate that was just standing there.

“Hey Nate, are you feeling okay?”

“I am feeling fine! And that's Dr. Morgan to you! We have been over this.”

Nick just couldn't get over the weird face shape that suddenly appeared on Nate's body. Or the thin mustache thing. 

Bananarang looked at the two of them. “Well, I'll carry your friend here to a place where he can recover from his deadweight privately. I will catch up with you at the old mansion. Please, don't go near the new one. My family can be a little...nosy about guests and truly ruin a good drink between old men.”

Nick and new Nate made their way to the house as Barnbag Collins fireman carried the Roddy (Rod body) towards the cemetery. Once there, he performed some secret magic that involved some far out genital massaging and necromanic chanting. Plus a little spit and tongue play on the tummy skin and the body began to move. Collin Barnabus booked it to the house while the body began its process of...whatever it was supposed to do.

 

Brorgballins Collinhill walked through the door of the old mansion and hung up his little hood poncho and cane. Then he drifted over to the table where Nick and Nate were swapping spit.

“Ahem.”

They both jolted back and fixed their hats. 

“We were just reminiscing about the old times.” Nate was fidgeting.

“No doubt. So, what would you two like to drink?”

“Vodka!” They said in unison.

“Two vodkaroos coming right up.”

The sun started going down as the three of them got sloppy drunk off of their alcohol. They didn't talk much, just kind of grunted at each other and farted in some obscure direction as they guzzled by the bottle. At around 10:30 P.M. they heard it.

BANG BANG BANG! On the windows was a bang!

“Wazzat!” Nate stood up. He went over to the old phonograph and put on that record. That one weird record that nobody is sure where it came from or who performed on it. All they know is that it is some short instrumental jazz and it fit the situation...whatever the situation was.

The window beside the phonograph was smashed and a pale hand came through.

“F-f-f-f-f-f-fuucckkkk that!” Nate screamed as he dove to the ground.

The being outside called in. “Morgan! Come out here Morgan!”

It was familiar to Nate, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He was moving his finger around on the floor when it glided across a piece of broken glass and cut his finger. He looked at the cut on his finger and then knew. Oh, did he know! It was his old partner!

“Nick, mysterious Maine guy, did either of you know that I used to have a close partner at the lab before the war?”

Nick looked incredibly confused for a robot. “I thought you were in the service.”

“Not this Nate Morgan.” He fisted his chest like those dudebros do when they are victorious in some small, trivial task. “No, this Morgan was a scientist! I was trying to discover some...um...I think it was some...science thing. Anyways, he was helping me, but, something happened during that part of the movie that I fell asleep through and he ended up evil or something. Now he wants me dead.”

The Nick and Beaniebaby looked even more confused. Who was this guy? Where was the Nate that was there before? Why would the creators change actors this far into the performance!?

“Do you want to know his name?”

Nobody acknowledge what the Nate imposter said.

“It was Rod Serling. He's out there right now trying to kill me. He turned into one of them. A vampire.”

A gigantic pool full of sweat shot out of Berniebeg at once and flooded the room. The salt from it started to rust Nick's claw hand and he threw it under his coat.

“Have some manners in your own home, man!”

“I believe it is time for you two to leave!”

Nate looked up horrified. “No! Can't you see he is gonna kill me!?”

Barnaby looked at Nate with sexy eyes and then at Nick. He decided that Nick should entertain the Rodpire. It would be easier to explain his own vampireness to this Nate/Imposter guy.

“Okay, the robot will leave.”

“What!?” Nick shot twenty cigarettes from his chest cavity and towards Bargainbin. 

Nate chimed in with. “When we get a chance, Nick, I will have to fix that. This time I will get a new Hoover vacuum to install instead of repairing the old one in you.” He turned his gaze to Barleybib, “I installed a Hoover vacuum for obvious reasons.” He gave a wink. Barbhill winked back, solidifying their sexy plans. 

“Okay, robot, out you go.” He fireman carried Nick all the way to the door, opened it, and tossed him out.

He turned back to Nate and took his hand. 

“Let me take you to my basement for some...explaining.”

 

"Oh, yes," the vampire said, smacking the penis against his face. The meaty sound, satisfying. "I'm gonna sautee your junk, and cover it in garlic!"  


Wait. Garlic?  


"Wait. Garlic?" said Nate, played by Vincent Price. "Don't vampires hate that stuff?"  


The vampire thought back, as he absentmindedly swung Nate's rod around in his hand. "Okay, steak sauce, then. I will cover your godly man-hotdog in steak sauce."  


"Sounds good." The old, distinguished man laid back down. Steak sauce? No problem.  


Bananas 'Hairy Knuckled' Collins reached down, grabbing a bottle of the condiment off the floor. The less old geezer reajusted, now eye to eye with Vince- Nate. Bananas popped open the bottle, and liberally spread the sauce on both their penises.  


"Oooogoogahboogoo," moaned Nate, as Bananas collected their barely erect dicks in one hand, and began jerking them both off.  


"Oh, ow," said Bananas. Bringing his (hairy) palm to his face, he saw he was bleeding profusely.  


"What the hell?"  


Upon closer inspection, Bananas clearly had 30,000 tiny splinter-like things stuck in his skin.  


": (" He frowned intensely. He looked the bottle over more carefully, and gasped. "STAKE SAUCE?!" In horror, Bananas looked down to see the collection of piss-scented wrinkles Nate called a penis had formed something more phallic (finally): a wooden stake!  


Vincent Pri-- NATE's pelvis thrusted up, impaling Bananas' heart with the cock.  


"I'm going ghost," Bananas cried. He rolled over, lifeless.  


"Well, that was something," said Nate, zipping up his jeans.  


Then he noticed Banana's stomach swelling.  


"Oh, no you don't!" He grabbed a baseball bat. "If you wanna get with me, there's something you gotta know: if I knock a bitch up, then the baby's gotta go," Nate said, slowly raising his arms.  


Just before Nate could swing, the stomach burst open. "Oh, thank God! It was just gas." Nate tossed the bat to the side. Its clatter accompanying the sound of Nate sloshing through the dark liquids pooling from Bananas.  


"Man, that guy decayed fast."  


"Wah!" It was the sound of a baby crying.  


"!" Nate !'d. "What's that?"  


From the darkness, crawled Todd Howard.  


“We listened to you! Waaaah! But-waah-it wasn't enough!”

Nate was still !ing.

“We gave you ethical choices! We listened to the part of the community that matters the most! The-waaaaaaah-type that looks and sounds most like us. The straight men!”

Nate gasped then !ed and then gathered his voice and his penis. “Look, most of your fanbase is far from straight and man! Have you ever even looked anywhere excpet for the poopfest that is the Bethesda forums?”

“Waaaaaaah! No need!”

The Todd baby crawled closer and Nate backed away a little.

“Well, I suggest you do! There is no better way to get a real sense of what the fans want until you see all of the posts and fanart about Romanceable Nick Valentine!”

“Waaaaah! That's too much work! Waaaaaah, not enough time!”

“Well, you'll have plenty of time locked down here with that computer!”

Nate ran to the stairs, kicked the Toddbaby back, and went through the door. He locked it and barred it with a chair. Faint baby screams could be heard on the other side of the heavy oak door, but he focused on going to save his good friend Nick.

 

When Nate got outside, he saw that the two were wrestling on the ground, naked.

“They are either at each other's throats in a vampiric fight to the robodeath, or they are having the sexy dance of the fertility gods.”  
He got closer and examind their predicament. They had actually died and stiffened there in eternal combat. Nate saluted his two brave comrades and went to go pick them up. Suddenly, like, ten truck came driving up the field towards Nate. They were full of men in dark clothing holding...Soviet weapons? Don't ask me how they got their hands on them. They jumped out of the trucks and chased Nate.  
Nate knew that someone would eventually catch up with him. He had killed so many people from so many factions that someone must have had it in for him. They chased him on foot and by truck through the woods and to an abandoned church. Nate ran inside and was almost at the altar when it happened. The men with the Soviet era weapons opened up on Nate and turned him into wrinkly swiss cheese. 

A woman that was with the company made them stop and ran up crying to the corpse. Who was she? I can't tell you. Nobody can tell you. Obligatory straight romance is always watching and waiting and will strike at a moments notice.

She cries over the body of Nate as the camera pans out.

THE END


End file.
